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Izzy sipped her champagne, conscious of Jason standing right beside her. He might have let her go but his arm was brushing against hers and he was clearly signalling that this was an interlude, not an end. Despite all her misgivings, she felt deliciously happy. Here, in this particular moment, with the storm still swirling outside and Jason by her side, life felt perfect. Part of her wanted to drag him from the room and upstairs to their turret bedroom. It was ironic that Brooke had engineered this evening in the hope of facilitating a romance, and right now it was the evening that was standing in the way of romance.

But although she couldn’t wait to be alone with Jason, she was also enjoying the atmosphere in the room. It was cosy and festive, candles flickering on the table while snow swirled outside and the wind buffeted the trees. There were sounds of laughter, the clink of glasses and cutlery, and the low hum of conversation. It was the kind of festive evening she’d always pictured other people enjoying, only for once she was in the middle of the picture.

They served the food and as they ate, they swapped stories of previous Christmases, and Izzy listened and stayed quiet because she didn’t want to think about previous Christmases. She only wanted to think about this Christmas.

“A toast to Mabel! Thank you for taking us in.” Brooke raised her glass to Mabel. “And for giving Elsie a day she will never forget and will no doubt talk about for the rest of her life.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking her,” Mabel said, although she looked pleased as they all raised their glasses. “Being around her has woken a creative side of me that I’d assumed had disappeared forever. I feel excited for the first time in a long while.”

Brooke put her glass down. “Does this mean there are going to be more M.M. Kingston books?”

“I don’t know. But thanks to your daughter, I enjoyed writing stories today. And that’s the most important thing.” She paused. “It’s part of who I am. How I express myself. But somehow it all fell apart after everything that happened with Chrissie. I couldn’t access that side of me. I lost my way. Guilt, I suppose, and also grief.”

“Mabel …” Brooke, who was sitting next to her, reached out and took her hand. “I don’t know what happened between you and your daughter, but even after just a couple of days, I don’t believe for a moment that it could have been all your fault. It’s obvious that you love her deeply.”

“I do love her. That was part of the problem.” She paused. “Walter and I had been together a while and we’d given up on ever having a child when I discovered I was pregnant with Chrissie. It felt like a miracle. Those first few hours after she was born were the happiest of my life.”

Izzy put her fork down. She wasn’t sure what was coming, but she sensed it wasn’t going to be good.

Mabel stared into the candle-flame and Brooke put her napkin on the table.

“Perhaps we should change the subject. You don’t have to talk about this, Mabel.”

“I’d like to, if you can bear to hear it. I’ve never talked to anyone, you see.” Mabel took another sip of her wine. “Perhaps it’s easier because you’re strangers. Although oddly, I feel more comfortable with all of you than I have with anyone in a long time.”

Izzy stared at her plate. Not only me, then. She felt the same way. As if she was among people she’d known forever.

“I suppose being snowed in does that for you.” She looked up. “We’ve all had to work together. It brings you closer.”

“Well, of course, if this was a murder mystery, one of us would turn out to be a savage killer.” Mabel gave a brief smile and seemed to pull herself together. “There would be a body under the Christmas tree.”

“That’s your writer’s mind working overtime,” Matt said. “I don’t think any of us are savage killers, although I did see one of the cats—Cupcake, I think—stalking one of Poppy’s toys earlier.”

Mabel smiled and put her wineglass down. She fiddled with the stem and then took a breath. “Have you ever gone from the highest point in your life to the lowest in a matter of hours? Because that’s what happened when Chrissie was born. Walter and I had our baby girl and she was perfect. Except that she wasn’t. Two hours after she was born three doctors appeared in my room. Chrissie had a serious heart defect and she needed immediate surgery.”

“Oh, Mabel—” Brooke reached across and covered Mabel’s hand with her own. “That’s terrible. I can’t begin to imagine how you must have felt. The worry must have half killed you.”

“It did, but fortunately I had Walter, and he was a rock. He was the sort of man who refused to worry about something in advance. He focused on the problem in front of him. The one that needed to be dealt with right at that moment. It will be fine, he said. Everything will be fine. Of course, my mind is totally undisciplined. I go from zero to catastrophe in under two seconds.”

“That’s probably part of the reason you’re such a talented writer,” Brooke said. “Your imagination.”

“Maybe. Although sadly most of this was real and not imagined. Walter was wrong. Everything was far from fine. Chrissie ended up having several surgeries and then she had to be monitored closely. And the anxiety was constant, all through her childhood.” Her voice shook. “She collapsed at school one day on the sports field and was rushed to the hospital. After that, I struggled to relax. Whenever she was out of my sight, I was braced for the phone to ring.”

Brooke made a sound. “I can’t imagine how you coped.”

“Looking back, neither can I. I’d wake in the night in a panic and I’d have to go and check on her. But then things seemed to settle. She was stable. The doctors were happy with her. They warned her that pregnancy would be a risk, but that didn’t seem relevant at the time. I was just relieved she was alive and healthy. She went to medical school and trained as a doctor. She wanted to help people, the way she’d been helped. She was disciplined about having a healthy lifestyle. She didn’t smoke, she didn’t drink, she exercised. She educated herself on her condition. She wasn’t interested in having a baby, or maybe she’d resigned herself to the fact that it wasn’t a good idea. But then she met Tom.” Mabel swallowed. “Her whole world changed. And so did ours.”

The only sound in the room was the crackle from the fire; the only hint that there was a world beyond the windows was the swirl of soundless snow.

Mabel stared at the candle flickering in front of her. “A year after they married they came to stay for the weekend. She told us that she and Tom had decided they wanted a baby. I was horrified. The doctors had been clear about the risks. I took Tom to one side and tried to reason with him, but he was adamant they were willing to take that risk. I accused him of pressuring her. We had a terrible argument. Things were said that shouldn’t have been said.”

“You were scared,” Brooke murmured.

“Yes, but all they saw were parents who were interfering. Chrissie and I had always been close, but that changed. There was this horrible barrier between us. No more laughing phone calls. No more loving messages. We caught up once a week. A duty call. And I missed her.” Mabel’s voice cracked. “I missed her so much. As did Walter. It was stressful. I always thought that the stress of it contributed to his heart attack, but I’ll never know. I found him collapsed in the forest one afternoon and that was that.”

“Oh, Mabel—” Brooke put her arm around Mabel, and Izzy wiped tears from her cheeks.

Life was unfair. First, Mabel had all but lost her daughter, and then she lost her beloved Walter.